Breaking Even
by Wordchoice
Summary: All great stories start somewhere, including Sly's. There was a reason he never suffered his ancestors' fate.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"You're going to fall and I'm not cleaning up the mess!" Bentley's voice echoed in the empty gymnasium.

Murray picked his nose and saw how far he could fling the boogers. It didn't matter to him his best friend was crawling on the gym's catwalks. Sly did lots of stupid things, and Bentley always worried too much.

"I'm not calling the paramedics!" Bentley yelled upwards and paced back and forth. "Get down here! This is ridiculous!"

One of Murray's boogers hit the gym's bleachers and the hippo mocked a crowd cheering. "Ten points!"

Earlier that day, during gym class, one of the eighth graders had thrown Bentley's favorite pen high unto a support beam. Of course, right then and there would have been a terrible time for the little raccoon to dash in to action. He had waited till after classes to get the pen.

"It's just a pen!" Bentley screeched. "It's not worth dying for."

Murray scored another ten points. It was a pity booger flinging wasn't part of gym class. He was sure to get an A then.

One of the gym door's opened and the middle school's coach strode in to his territory. Murray and Bentley froze. The cheetah stopped his walk abruptly and stared at the two sixth graders.

"What are you two doing in here?" he marched over to them, oblivious of the movement above his head.

"Nothing, sir." Bentley squeaked.

The cheetah frowned and scratched his nose. He could think of no reason why a nerd would _want_ to be in the gym.

"I'm practicing booger flinging." Murray blurted out, yet spoke with a hint of matter-of-factly, like booger flinging was a common exercise.

"Yes, that's nice." The coach muttered at the hippo, seemingly unaffected by the comment. He pointed at the turtle. "What are you doing in here?"

Bentley nervously fidgeted. "Well, sir, I was –that is- I am. I was in the gym because. I was –um- well-"

A pen hit the coach's baseball-cap covered head and fell to the ground with a 'tink'. Bentley and Murray's eyes opened wide. The three of them looked up, but only catwalks and rafters greeted them. There was no sign of a raccoon.

"I was experimenting with the projectile rate of small objects, sir?" Bentley tried to think of a possible excuse for a pen to fall out of the sky.

The coach scowled suspiciously at them. "Where's the other boy? Aren't there normally three of you?"

"He died." Murray said, trying to play in to the game of cover-up.

Bentley glared at the hippo.

"He died and came back to life." Murray tried to correct his mistake. "He's sick now."

The coach stared at them. And stared. He glanced up at the rafters again and then strode away. "You two get out of my gym. Go practice your physics elsewhere."

"Yes, sir." Bentley grabbed his pen.

The turtle and hippo darted from the middle school gym. Most of the students had gone home for the day, causing the hallways to be void of drama, gossip, and chewing gum wrappers. The colorful lockers seemed to lean against each other, as if they were trying to rest up before the next day of being banged, slammed, and abused.

Bentley and Murray left the gym doors and scampered down the hallway, turned the corner and hid in a classroom. Posters and pictures lined the walls and a late spring sun was just beginning to descend. Shadows of the playground danced over the desks and cabinets. School would be over with soon and the scent of summer break hung heavy in the air.

The turtle stuck the pen in his pocket and read over the classroom's posters. It was the foreign language room and a huge picture of the Eiffel tower was plastered near the teacher's desk. Bentley wondered if his raccoon friend would climb that too if given the chance.

"Did you get in trouble?"

Murray and Bentley looked up. There was Sly, silhouetted in the doorway.

"I saw you run away. I thought maybe you got detention."

"Coach just wanted us out." Murray responded.

"Oh, okay." Sly entered the room and slid into the desk beside Bentley. "Did you get the pen?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Bentley responded quietly.

Murray saw his friends fall silent. He noticed there had been something strange lately. A change. A small, little change –hardly noticeable if you didn't know the raccoon and turtle. The hippo tried to reason it was because their first year of middle school was terrible and awkward. He thought maybe they both had a crush on the same girl, or maybe Bentley was fed up with Sly copying his math homework.

"You want to get some ice cream?" Sly offered.

"It's already four." Bentley replied.

Murray wriggled in the desk and admired the sunlight streaming down the walls. He couldn't wait for summer break.

"I heard Mrs. Smith asked you to do a report for your final project." Sly spoke. "You could get moved to AP History next year. That's cool."

Bentley murmured a thanks.

"You'd be the only 7th grader in an AP class." Sly said encouragingly.

Murray yawned and slouched in to the desk.

Bentley just nodded.

Sly looked out the window and sighed. "If you're still mad about yesterday, I think that-"

"I'm not mad!" Bentley banged a fist on the desk.

Murray thought back to yesterday. Was there something significant he had missed? Yesterday was just the same. Get up. School. Lunch. Goof around after school. Back to the orphanage. Homework. Sleep. Sly and Bentley had talked before lights out, but he couldn't remember what about. He didn't think his two friends had fought. Had they? If it were something big, Sly wouldn't have climbed to the gym ceiling to get Bentley's pen back. And Bentley still watched from below with dread –that was normal.

Bentley stood up and headed to the door. "Let's get ice cream."

Murray shot out of his desk. "Let's go, guys!"

Sly stayed in the desk and smiled warmly. "It's not the first time. I mean, the other kids-"

Bentley interrupted. "Mrs. Smith said I could do any subject for the paper. I have to give a presentation too."

Sly's smile faded.

"I think I'll do my project on the Cooper Clan." Bentley grinned and left.

Sly banged his head on the desk. He thought after a full day of school his best friend would have gotten over their fight. Not to mention the whole pen thing. But there was no mistake, Bentley was smart. Really smart. That meant that the raccoon would somehow, miraculously, have to figure out how to be smarter.

Murray poked his head in the door, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a headache." Sly replied and stood up. At least Murray didn't question –or seem to care- about such circumstances. Bentley should have minded his own business.

"Oh." Murray frowned. "You just want to get ice cream tomorrow?"

"Nah, I'm good." The raccoon smiled and joined his friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Lights out!" Ms. Puffin pounded on the trio's bedroom door.

Bentley switched off his bedside lamp and Ms. Puffin's shadow disappeared from under the door. The turtle heard the orphanage matron pound on other doors and continue on her nightly rounds.

"Thanks for getting my pen back." Bentley whispered.

There was no answer. Bentley figured there wouldn't be, but he was just checking. Sly had already snuck out of the room. The turtle hadn't even heard the door open and close, but then again, he rarely caught Sly sneaking.

"I don't want to get by the den snack." Murray replied half-asleep.

Bentley rolled his eyes. Get by the den snack. Get my pen back. What's the difference? The turtle snuggled into the covers and fell asleep.

Minutes passed. Hours passed. The night grew cold and clouds began to roll in. Sly hadn't left the room. He lay wide-awake, staring at the ceiling.

Things had changed since they entered middle school. He wasn't a kid anymore and that didn't feel quite right. They didn't play pretend. They didn't play cops and robbers. They didn't steal cookies from Ms. Puffin's office. There was realization that childhood had kicked them in the shins and runaway, never to return.

The wind smacked against their bedroom window and the roar of thunder echoed. Sly rolled over on his stomach and put a pillow over his head. He hated storms. Dad had died during a storm –but he tried not to think about that. Being emo was reserved for vampires and whiny girls, not master thieves.

Sly felt bad lying the previous day. Bentley was, after all, one of his best friends. Nonetheless, Inspector Fox had been firm. Nobody could know he was a Cooper; it was as simple as that. He could keep his first name, but the name of Cooper had to go. Sly would inherit the last name of whatever family adopted him. At least according to Inspector Fox, Sly would inherit a new last name. According to Sly, he would get his last name back when he turned eighteen and was considered a legal adult.

But who could blame Bentley for calling Sly out on his secret? A lifeless rock could probably tell Sly was a Cooper. The raccoon was quick, nimble, and could easily pick pocket the teachers. He even looked like some of the Coopers in the history books. Sly had never gone out of his way to hide his nature either, especially around his friends. He was stupid to think Bentley would just ignore the obvious.

Rain began to 'tap-tap-tap' on the window and a crack of thunder struck close by. Sly's stomach felt queasy and he thought briefly of his father's nameless grave out in open, exposed to furious storms. But none of that! Don't think about that!

It wasn't that the other kids hadn't called him a Cooper at first, but that was before Ms. Puffin yelled some social sense in to them. Ever since the murders, the name Cooper held a tone of hazard and doom. Everybody told stories of the great Coopers –that is, they _did_ tell great stories until his father's death. The name Cooper became something whispered in passing, something that was kicked into the shadows and forgotten.

The orphanage seemed to wobble from the relentless storm. Murray moaned in his sleep and pulled the blankets over his face, trying to drown out the noise.

Sure it had been fun to play Cooper when they were kids. Sly had assumed playing was all Bentley and Murray would do. He would move on to being a real Cooper and they would get adopted and leave. The turtle and hippo were too close. He wanted to be himself and be their friend, but he knew he couldn't have both.

The lights in the hallway flickered and the raccoon carefully got up and left the room. He hoped the power would stay on long enough so that he could watch some TV. Anything to halt his thinking.

He tiptoed in to the rec-room and slunk down on a couch. For a while he channeled surfed. He skimmed past the news station a few times, never seeing anything interesting. Then he caught sight of a familiar face during one surf through and frantically flipped backward.

It was Inspector Fox! The raccoon crawled close to the TV and turned the volume up.

"I'm sorry, but I'll take no more questions." Fox stepped away from the podium.

The image flicked over to a newscaster at a desk. The rosy-cheeked badger spoke with flawless perfection, each one of her words felt like they were slapping Sly on the back.

"That was the last statement Fox made before his death yesterday. Again, no more details of the murder are known, but officials suspect that Fox's untimely death is linked to the Cooper Clan's demise. Inspector Fox is survived by his wife and one daughter. A funeral is being held next week…"

Sly didn't hear the rest. His mind was still trying to process the first portion of information. That just couldn't be. Inspector Fox had been part of the team that saved Sly's life. Fox had been there when the raccoon woke up at the hospital. Fox had been there when witness protection moved Sly. Fox had even visited on his first fatherless birthday, bringing with him "stolen" evidence from Interpol as a token of truce between Sly and the cop that was his father's constant rival and shadow.

Sly turned off the TV and raced back to his room. He had to get to the funeral. Inspector Fox couldn't be dead! That wasn't possible. It had to be a cover-up, just like his death was. Sly Cooper had died when his father died. The world news had broadcast it everywhere. _All_ the Coopers were dead. Fox must have had to go in to hiding.

He stopped sharply at the door to their room. He couldn't just leave the orphanage. A thirteen year old would never get anywhere without parental supervision. But Bentley…Bentley could figure out a way to get them to the funeral.

The raccoon would have to reveal his secret then, why else would there be such a need to get to the funeral of a dead Interpol agent? He tapped his foot feverishly on the floor. Inspector Fox had told him nobody could know. It was the only way to keep him safe, to keep the sole Cooper heir from the hordes of enemies his father made.

Sly took a deep breath and made up his mind. He knew exactly what to tell Bentley and Murray.


	3. Chapter 3

Bentley rubbed his nose and adjusted his glasses. It was a while before he finally spoke. "You could have just said that before."

"The witness protection checks in now and then. I didn't want to get in trouble." Sly replied.

"Are you going to tell them we know? Are they going to wipe our memories?" Murray chimed in with concern.

"No." Sly replied. "I...I don't think they can do that."

"So if your parents were Interpol agents, why wouldn't they have already told you about Fox's death?" Bentley asked.

"Because he maybe in hiding," Sly explained as the storm continued outside. "I'm sure they'd rather I don't worry. But Fox and my Dad were good friends. They chased Cooper everywhere."

Bentley sighed and glanced to the window. It still didn't quite make sense. The turtle read lots of history books and police reports and there was no mention of any partner to Inspector Fox. Part of him worried that Sly might still be lying, but he couldn't deny his friend's reasoning. There was no mention of Inspector Fox's partner because he was undercover. Sly's parents were only posing to befriend the real Coopers –it just so happened they were raccoons.

"Really, honestly, I'm sorry." Sly broke the silence. "I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't."

"But now you mention it because you need help getting to the funeral." Bentley looked offended. Of course Sly couldn't get himself there. The raccoon was nimble, but could barely pay attention in math class, let alone outsmart the adults.

"Well…yes. I guess…I mean." Sly knew Bentley felt used. "You're my best friends, and even if this wasn't a funeral for an Interpol worker, I mean, I would hope you'd help me anyway."

Now Bentley felt bad. Sly was his friend, right? He should help out his buddy no matter what. Whether he be a Cooper or not. Maybe it was good this happened. Maybe it meant they wouldn't keep secrets anymore. Not that the turtle had any secret past to keep.

"I will totally help." Murray nodded. "I know how to order pizza."

Bentley and Sly looked curiously at the hippo.

"What?" Murray looked back at them. Pizza ordering skills were important.

"Okay, I'll look up the public reports at school tomorrow." Bentley returned his attention to the raccoon. "Nobody will question a school I.P. on a government site. They'll just figure somebody is doing a paper. "

Sly hadn't the slightest clue what an I.P. was, but he felt relieved Bentley bought his story. He nodded.

"Hey, if your dad knew Cooper so well, you can help me on my history project." Bentley said.

Whoops! Sly had forgotten about that. He smiled nonetheless. "Sure. I mean, my parents didn't tell me that much, but I can try to help."

A crack of thunder bellowed outside. The three friends jumped while the lights in the small bedroom flickered.

"I read," Bentley began, "that the Coopers were murdered on a stormy night. Was that true? Was Cooper's son really killed too? Wasn't he your age? Did you know him?"

Leave it to Bentley to ask such a question. Although now that Sly wasn't a Cooper to either of his friends, they figured such blunt questions were okay. After all, if he wasn't a Cooper than such questions weren't personal.

"Yeah, it was storming." Sly remembered it very well. "Interpol didn't show up till morning. " He paused. He didn't think such words could be so hard to say. "And yeah, he was my age. I didn't really know him."

"I read that Cooper was really protective. Even Interpol couldn't get official pictures of the kid. Did they even know his name?"

"The Coopers were master thieves, they knew how to keep their kids safe." Sly said. He wanted to add that they also died for their children too, but kept quiet. "I think his name was, uh, Kevin and-"

"Well, they weren't good thieves this time!" Murray pointed out. "Now they're all dead and stuff."

Bentley and Murray giggled at each other. Sly tried to laugh too. How did his father lie all the time? This was supposed to be easy.

There was another rupture of thunder. The young teenagers didn't jump this time. Instead, they jumped when their bedroom door jerked open and a seething Ms. Puffin stomped in.

"What are we doing up, boys?" she stared so bitterly that her face looked like it would just shrivel up.

"Ms. Puffin," Sly grinned, "You look lovely...at two in the morning."

"Lights out! Now!"

The trio scrambled. Bentley turned off the flashlight, tossed it under his bed, and crawled under the covers. Sly was gone in a blur; he slipped up the ladder of the bunk bed and disappeared. Murray tripped over his own feet and barely fell onto the edge of his bed. He wiggled in to the sheets and pretended to be instantly asleep.

"Any more of this nonsense and I'll give you separate rooms!" Ms. Puffin slammed the door shut.

The teenagers chuckled. She had been threatening to separate them for years, but they had shared the same room ever since Sly arrived.

#

Sly's last class of the day was science, and much to his misery, neither Bentley nor Murray were in his class. He sat in the middle of the classroom surrounded by students that didn't come from the orphanage. It was the only time of day when he didn't have at least one of his friends next to him. He wasn't sure what was more awkward; the fact he was a raccoon or the fact he was an orphan –both made the other kids scoot their desks away from him.

"Remember the periodic element exam will be next week on Thursday." the lynx droned on at the front of the classroom. "Friday will be our movie day."

Sly looked at the clock. Almost last bell and then the final weekend of his 6th grade career would start. He suspected he should be studying for his exams, but he hoped by tomorrow he would be on a plane to Paris. All day his mind had been fighting between paying attention and memories of his father's rival.

"Remember study, study, study! The elements make up our world. You should know what make our world."

The students moaned.

"In 7th grade you start chemistry. You will all need to know the elements."

The students just moaned again.

The panther to the right of Sly dropped a note and kicked it to his desk. When the lynx turned his back to the class, Sly scooped up the note.

The note read: My friend wants to know if Murray has a girlfriend.

Sly snorted and failed to stop himself from laughing. The white panther glared at him while a violet colored elephant looked shyly away.

The adult lynx spun around and slammed a paw on board. "Is there a problem, Sylvester?"

The other students laughed, not only because Sly was in trouble, but also because the teacher had to use his first name. It was one thing when a teacher asked, "is there a problem Mr. somebody or Mrs. Somebody." But Sly didn't even have a last name to scold him with.

Sly shook his head. "No, sir."

"Good." the lynx turned back to the blackboard.

Sly scribbled a reply: Girls are gross. He folded the note and passed it back to the panther. The bell rang and the students left without listening to their teacher's final warning about studying.

The raccoon didn't notice the panther trying to comfort the distraught elephant girl. He hurried to his locker, packed his books, and headed straight for the library.

Bentley was already in the computer lab, typing away. The turtle's last class of the day was an introduction to programming class –which was an 8th grade class that the principal had allowed him to take.

"So," Bentley began as soon as Sly pulled up a chair, "I read that all the official reports state evidence points to a murder from one of the several crime syndicates he was investigating, and that perhaps he got too close. It was released today that Fox was still investigating the death of the Coopers, but the public was told the case was closed."

Murray arrived. He greeted his friends and took a seat.

"The funeral is Monday," Bentley continued, "but it's not in Paris. It's in Madrid, which is in Spain. They're taking Fox back to his hometown on request from his wife. Did you know Fox had a daughter? I guess she's been kept out of the public eye."

Sly nodded, although he could have added a few more details. He didn't know much about the girl. A few times when he had gone out with his father, they had run in to Fox and his family on "accident". One time, Fox had been on vacation in Thailand when Sly and his father spotted the family at the Phanom Rung ruins. Cooper and Fox bantered, and Sly stuck out his tongue at the little girl, which promptly earned him an ice cream cone thrown in his face.

"I think I know how to get us there and back. Of course Ms. Puffin will report us missing, but we should be okay for a few days, and then we'll come back Tuesday. The problem is, we need money."

"What about a credit card? I can get one." Sly spoke.

"You can't register for a credit car-"

"No, I'll grab one of the teachers." Sly interrupted.

"Oh." Bentley thought for a moment. "Oh, okay. That works."

"I'll pack us lunches." Murray added. "I make an awesome peanut butter and jelly sandwich."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks kindly for the reviews. :)  


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Chapter Four

They told Ms. Puffin they'd be at the library and mall. The bitter old bird didn't bother to even check their backpacks or question why they each carried lunchboxes. She assumed they were going to be gone for the day, and that was quite all right with her. She needed constant breaks from the troublemakers or she feared she might strangle somebody: honestly, no children were as terrible as them.

So the first Saturday morning in June found Sly, Bentley, and Murray racing down sidewalks and taking connecting buses to the airport. Although the adults gave them strange looks, Bentley had them covered.

The turtle had gotten them tickets and the correct paper work to be unaccompanied minors. They each had lanyards with a red flag and their picture that Bentley had made; this ensured the security guards smiled and waved them on to the proper airport terminal. The fake documents that Bentley typed up said they were going to Madrid to visit another orphanage for the weekend - they were just "exchange students".

On the flight, the trio dug in to their lunchboxes, complete with Murray's awesome peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. After food, Murray played with the overhead vent buttons, Bentley skimmed through a history book, and Sly stared out the window.

The raccoon had been on planes before. He used to travel with his parents a lot. They traveled everywhere. Sly's father insist that he show his son the world. His father had planned a trip to Iceland just weeks before the night...before the the night _they _showed up and...Sly forced himself not to think about that.

He thought of Inspector Fox and the way the officer could scale rooftops and leap obstacles. Fox was the second generation of police officers who chased the Cooper family. Before Fox, the Coopers didn't seem to have real opponents –at least none that Sly knew about. But then again, the young raccoon figured there were plenty of things he didn't know about.

The cold air suddenly blasted in Murray's face and the hippo jumped out of his seat. Bentley reached out and snapped the switch off while near-by passengers stared suspiciously.

"Can I switch seats with you?" Murray poked Sly in the shoulder.

"Sure." Sly slipped in to the middle seat. He had forgotten that planes were new to his friends. Bentley and Murray had never left the city, let alone America.

"Wow!" Murray pressed his pudgy face against the window. "We're up high! Hey, that cloud looks like a cake."

Sly giggled and settled in to the seat. Part of him was thrilled to be leaving America and the orphanage behind. It seemed like an eternity since he had been free of Ms. Puffin and the witness protection agency. The raccoon couldn't wait to see the agents scramble to find him once Ms. Puffin reported the missing children.

"Man, now I want some cake." Murray chatted on. "Chocolate cake, with ice cream in the middle. Chocolate ice cream."

"You just ate." Bentley told his friend.

"That cloud looks like a hot dog." Murray continued. "And that one looks like a pineapple."

"I don't think he's listening to you." Sly said to Bentley.

"I don't think so either." the turtle returned to his book.

"And that one totally looks like a donut."

Sly pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his bushy tail around him. He was ready for a long nap.

He remembered the way his parents used to disguise themselves during airplane trips. He thought of the way his mother had once dyed her hair red and smelled like spring flowers. She talked with a lovely accent and said her name was Abby O'Mally. His mother could be anyone and do anything; sometimes he wondered if she perhaps could have stolen from his father. Even if it was his father who carried the Cooper name, his mom seemed equally suited for the title.

The raccoon's mind flashed to her face yelling at him. She was the one who had snatched the cane from his father and flung him in to the closet that night. There was no coy accent in her voice; it was just his mother, screaming at him not to move.

"That one looks like a race car!" Murray spoke excited. "And that one is a train! A speeding train!"

Sly's mood sunk at the idea of his father's cane and cap, hidden away in his dresser back at the orphanage. The cane and cap were items that Inspector Fox fought to let him have. Fox nearly threw a table at the judge trying to explain why the Cooper heir should be allowed to keep his family property. It was a shame the items had to stay hidden.

"That one is a marshmallow! Now it's a bowl of soup."

"Hey, Sly." Bentley tugged on Sly's shirt.

Sly leaned over and glanced at the page of the book Bentley was reading. In the middle of the text was a picture of Tennessee Cooper at an old western saloon, playing a card game.

"Did your dad ever tell you the history of the Coopers? Do you know anything about Tennessee?" Bentley whispered, not wanting to draw the attention of other passengers.

"A little."

"Well, I think I'm going to focus my report on just three of the Coopers. Tennessee, Thaddeus, and then your dad's Cooper. I can't find a lot about some of the lesser-known Coopers. There must have been a lot of them. They were a big family, right?"

"Ur, well, probably." Sly didn't really want to talk about this right now. He wondered if Bentley was still genuinely convinced he was a Cooper and trying to annoy the truth out of him –or maybe Bentley just really wanted to know. There were professors who spent their lives trying to track the history of the world's most well known thieves. Sly would know too, his father liked to steal from such professors.

"There was a Cooper order in medieval times." Bentley chattered while flipping through the book. "I bet the Coopers were related to King Arthur. Or maybe the Cooper order was the base of the King Arthur legends. They must have started in Egypt and then moved to Europe and Ireland –oh wait, Ireland is in Europe."

For the first time, in a very long time, Sly felt a prick of pride looking over the history book's chapter on the Coopers. He knew he was a Cooper –but he didn't really feel like one, at least not for the last couple of years.

"Look! That one looks like a jet plane!" Murray said. "Wait…I think that is a jet plane."

Sly and Bentley leaned closer to their hippo friend. From the plane's port window the trio could see another plane rising from the clouds. The other passengers soon noticed the same event and several hurried whispers of panic skipped down the isle. The plane's attendants busily rushed about, trying to get a better view of the mysterious aircraft.

"Don't worry. Nothing to worry about. Stay calm." The hostesses bubbled as they smiled.

"That looks like a standard military stealth jet." Bentley pushed his glasses up his nose.

"It's not being very stealthy." Murray stated.

The passengers talked feverishly to each other. Sly slid back in to his seat and tried to reason with himself. There was no way witness protection would take a jet out to find him. He wasn't _that_ important. There was absolutely no way somebody was chasing after them already. The raccoon's heart couldn't help but pound wildly.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"This is your captain speaking," a voice bumbled over the speaker system, "and there is no need to worry. The jet is just on a routine patrol over the Atlantic."

The passengers, although still anxious, settled back into their seats. Bentley and Murray remained fascinated by the complex aircraft.

Sly put his hands over his ears and tried to make the roar of engines vanish. He couldn't recall any such thing as routine patrols for jets. He had crossed the Atlantic plenty of times and never saw a jet. He wanted to believe the captain was telling the truth, but the skip of his frantic heart told him otherwise.

"I bet it's out looking for sky pirates!" Murray exclaimed excitedly.

Bentley pushed his glasses up his nose, "There is no such thing as sky pirates."

"Yeah there is. I seen 'um on the TV," Murray replied.

"On Saturday morning cartoons. That's not real," Bentley informed.

Murray wrinkled his face, "You said that about G.I. Toe and Transmorphers too, but we saw them at the mall last month."

"Those were just actors in costumes," Bentley said.

"No way! I got G.I. Toe's autograph!"

Bentley rolled his eyes and turned his attention at Sly. The turtle poked his friend in the arm and the raccoon pulled his hands from his ears.

"Are you okay?" Bentley questioned.

"I guess I don't like the sound of jets. My ears are ringing," Sly lied while he grinned embarrassedly. He imagined he should be a normal teenage boy that adored the fierce power of giant machines- but felt ashamed the noise caused him pain. At least such cover-up story would hide his fear of getting caught.

Bentley nodded, "I read that procyonidaes' hearing is especially fragile during teenage development."

Sly wasn't sure what a procyonidae was or even how to pronounce it. Nonetheless, he was thankful Bentley paid attention in science class. Or would it be health class? It didn't matter anyway. Sly paid little attention in either class.

"Awww, man, it's leaving!" Murray pouted and then started to wave furiously at the vanishing jet. "Good luck with sky pirates."

Bentley just rolled his eyes and returned to his studying.

Sly tried to reassure his inner panic. No need to worry. There were no jets out looking for him. The raccoon shifted his eyes around the plane. Most of the patrons seemed to have forgotten about the incident. Except one....

A coyote with thick, black square glasses and long, curly black hair sat in the seat closest to the isle. She sat nervously stiff in the seat, trying to glance out windows, her eyes bouncing everywhere, looking for something.

Sly was sure he had seen the coyote before…somewhere. Those black glasses and the eerie pitch black hair. She looked faintly familiar, like she had been a ghost in his dreams. He leaned closer to Bentley and squinted his eyes.

There was a necklace around her neck and the light from a window flickered off it, sending tiny dazzling specs racing over the cabin's roof. The sparks of light reminded him of something…something. What was it!

Something in the rain. Something that glowed. Somebody was crying. There was music coming from the darkness.

Was his dad there? Was his mom there? He worried he was starting to forget about his parents –the sound of their voices, the touch of their whiskers as they kissed him. He felt guilty for not remembering.

"What's the matter? Do you have to go to the bathroom?" Bentley pushed Sly back into his seat. "Do you have to get out?"

"Oh, sorry," Sly didn't realize he had been practically lying on top of the turtle to get a look at the woman.

"Do you want the isle seat?"

"No, no that's okay. I just thought I saw something." Sly focused his attention elsewhere.

"Oh my gosh! That cloud totally looks like an elephant!" Murray pointed his finger at the window. "It looks like Susan!"

Sly's eyes opened wide. Susan? She was the elephant in his science class. The white panther had sent him that note about her.

"Susan?" Bentley asked.

"Yeah, she's really pretty." Murray sighed.

Bentley cringed, "She's a _girl_."

"A _pretty_ girl," Murray replied in defense.

Sly slid down into his seat with his ears folded back, defeated. First Inspector Fox was dead. Then there was a jet outside the plane and a suspicious coyote. Now he had totally blown it for Murray. He didn't know his best friend had a crush! Girls were icky…weren't they? Seriously. How could Murray like them?

The young raccoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt like he could fall asleep and not wake up for several months.

"Excuse me?" a beautiful, cunning voice called.

Sly's eyes flew open and he looked up. The coyote was standing next to Bentley, leaning on the turtle's seat.

"You're Abby O'Mally's boy, aren't you?" the coyote asked. "You have her eyes."

Bentley and Murray looked warily at their friend. The coyote grinned, showing off her sharp teeth.

"I thought you said your mother's name was Henrietta," Bentley pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Abby Henrietta O'Mally," the coyote continued to grin, the light shone wildly off the silver locket on her neck. She pushed a strand of her black hair from her face and glanced at an approaching stewardess. "Better get to the bathroom and back. I guess it's not the time to freely move about the cabin. Don't want to get in trouble."

The coyote winked at Sly and left.

"Who was she?" Bentley asked.

"She's weird," Murray said.

"I don't know. I guess...maybe my mom knew her."

Murray and Bentley seemed satisfied with the answer. There were bound to be adults his parents knew that he had never met.

Sly sighed again. Correction. First Inspector Fox was dead. Then he blew it for Murray's crush. Then there was a jet. And now there was a creepy coyote that knew about one of his mother's aliases. He began to wonder if maybe he should have stayed in Seattle.

* * *

Sly Cooper and company belong to Sucker Punch. :)


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